The Sentinel
by springfieldbluebird
Summary: Just a short scene of S & H on a stakeout. Rated T just for language. First S & H fanfic, so please be kind!


Author's Note: I don't own these characters or make any money from this. I just have fun! I'm a little rusty and this is my first S&H fanfic, so please be gentle! :) Also, I don't usually use the present tense like this, but it's something I wanted to experiment with. Hopefully there are no grammar lapses! Please enjoy, read and review!

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Sleep drops upon Starsky like gentle rain, at first. Hutch doesn't let him know, but he is watching his friend sleep in the back of the Torino. Hutch is in the driver's seat, his head angled to watch his exhausted partner out of the corner of his eye.

The stakeout is long, boring and hot. It's summer for Christ's sake, Hutch thinks. Not ever a good time of year for a stakeout. Even though it's nighttime, the heat is oppressive. The sodium yellow of the streetlights tints everything a harvest gold, a sad color Hutch associates with death. Old pages in a book, plants with diseased leaves, the color of grass in the fall. The city seems subdued and tired under the sallow color, but Hutch knows that they're out there…criminals infesting the streets like shiny black cockroaches—hiding in corners and dark, unfrequented spaces.

There is a sound from the backseat that startles Hutch from his thoughts. _Damn_, Hutch thinks, _not again_. The dream is not good, and Starsky's face twists in anxiety and fear. He's seen his partner like this before.

"Starsk. Come on." Hutch places his hand on Starsky's leg, the leg which is thrown over the seat and practically resting on Hutch's shoulder. "Wake up, buddy." He continues gently nudging his partner, feeling the soft denim of blue jeans under his fingers.

There is a groan from Starsky that punctures Hutch's soul like a switchblade through flesh. "Starsk. Wake up." His hand on Starsky is more insistent now and he shakes his friend, watching him with worry.

Starsky is a solid sleeper, and mutters something Hutch can't understand. Slowly, Hutch gets him to come around. He opens up his eyes and pierces Hutch's heart with a look. He doesn't move another muscle but remains paralyzed in place, in the way Hutch knows from his own nightmares.

"Too much…too much blood." Starsky finally mutters, then closes his eyes tight, shaking his head. It's obvious to Hutch that his friend is seeing something else, a million years and million miles away.

"It's okay, Starsk. I'm here." Hutch touches his friend with his gaze, letting him know everything was ok, back to normal, all systems go. "Bad dream, huh?" He asks after a moment.

"Goddamn it." Starsky nods his head, sitting back up and smoothing his wild curls down. "That fucking sucked."

Hutch doesn't say anything, but he nods, giving Starsky a chance to gather his wits about him. His gaze is better than words; it calms his friend some and he finally climbs, somewhat clumsily, into the front passenger seat. Hutch knows that Starsk will need to talk, so he waits calmly for the words to flow back and forth between them.

"It was the jungle again." Starsky says, and Hutch nods without words once more; an invitation to go on that he doesn't need to give. "Only you were there. We got ambushed…shot up. It was…" He shudders. Apparently there aren't words enough to describe the horrifying sideshow that Starsky's dreams trap him in.

Hutch knows that Starsky was in Vietnam. The ex-soldier doesn't talk about it; except to mention a detail here and there where it fits the situation, and Hutch is smart enough to know not to ask. The respect he has for his friend prevents any prying questions. He has similar dreams himself, except they take place in the wild verge of the street, not the jungles of Southeast Asia.

"I know the type of dream." Hutch replies simply. Their worst fear is losing each other. They've just come too close to it, so many times. Neither one can face life without the other. Hutch knows that, and it is the reason he stands sentinel, over them both, always.

"They make me crazy." Starsky swears, taking a sip of cold coffee from the Thermos in between them. Time passes while Hutch thinks.

"Yeah. You gotta remember though…" The blond cuts his eyes to Starsky's and smiles his quiet smile. "It'll never happen, especially if we're together. I watch your back and you watch mine. That's the deal. As long as we do that, we're ok."

Starsky nods, comforted by the familiar words. He thinks a long time, and Hutch wonders what his thoughts are. "Have you seen anyone come out of there?" His friend nods to the cheap hotel they were parked across the street from.

"Nope. I think it's gonna be a long night."

"You know, it's not bad out here at night." Starsky looks up at the golden-yellow light from the streetlights. It's all they can see because the city lights hide the stars. "The weather's not as hot...and the streetlights make it look like someone dusted the city with gold."

Hutch takes a look around, seeing it again through Starksy's eyes and marveling at his partner's ability for optimism. After all he's been through, Starsky still has the ability to see the good, no matter what. "Yeah." He replies simply. "It's not too bad."

All of a sudden, Hutch's watchful eyes see their quarry exit the hotel. "There he is." Hutch tilts his head in the criminal's direction, drawing his gun almost unconsciously.

"Yep. Time to roll." Starsky throws open the Torino's door, and they go: moving as one unit, one mind and one soul through the gold-dusted night.


End file.
